


Natural Chemistry

by PhryneFicathon, Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Case Fic, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-05 00:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13376025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Phryne and Jack are asked to find a missing man.





	Natural Chemistry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hearkittycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hearkittycat/gifts).



> For the prompt: Cannot defeat biology and chemistry cannot be invented.

“Please, will you help me?” 

Jack sat behind his desk, breathing in Miss Fisher’s scent as she perched beside him. She’d been doing that more often in the weeks since they’d returned from the case in Queenscliff, and he noticed her closeness more and more every time. At some point, it would get painful, and he’d have to decide what, if any, next steps to take in their relationship, but that was a problem for another day. Right now, he directed his attention to the lovely young woman in his visitor’s chair. 

Tilly Bartlett, as she’d introduced herself, was looking for her beau, who had gone to work the day before and hadn’t been seen since. Miss Bartlett’s face was anguished, her eyes red from crying, but her jaw was firmly determined.

“So you know that Mr. Blenham arrived at his place of work yesterday at his normal time,” Miss Fisher put in, her voice gentle. 

Miss Bartlett nodded, her hands clenching on the purse she held in her lap. “Yes, his labmate said that Freddy came in and began work, but then was called into his supervisor’s office. He didn’t come back.”

“And his supervisor is…” Jack prompted, his pencil poised to note down the name.

“Miss Abigail Green.” The tone of Miss Bartlett’s voice was telling.

“You dislike her.” Phryne phrased it as a statement, not a question, but Miss Bartlett answered anyway.

“I do. She has been… persistent in her attentions to Freddy, even though he’s told her he isn’t interested.” 

Jack glanced at Phryne, and he knew that she was thinking something along the lines of “thwarted love?” For a woman who professed to have no romantic inklings, she was very quick to jump to a love affair as an explanation for crimes of passion. And she was rarely wrong.

“And you’re certain that he wouldn’t have gone off without saying anything?” Jack asked the question gently, even though he was certain he knew the answer.

“No, he wouldn’t have.” Miss Bartlett shook her head adamantly, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Freddy was coming to dinner last night, and he would have called if his plans had changed.”

“You said that Mr. Blenham’s lab mate saw him—what does your young man do?” Phryne’s question made the younger woman turn.

As Phryne spoke, she shifted her weight slightly, sending another drift of scent toward Jack, who breathed it deeply into his lungs. He loved it when she sat on his desk. Her nearness seemed to heighten his awareness—both of her and in general—and although his body reacted predictably, he thought his mind also worked better, somehow.

“Oh, Freddy’s a chemist. He works at Melbourne Labs; they formulate products like soap and household cleansers. He helped create some of the most efficacious washing powders available today.” Miss Bartlett’s pride in his accomplishments was clear; she sat up straighter in the chair and a small smile touched her lips.

“Fascinating,” Phryne said, and Jack knew that she meant it. The woman had a thirst for knowledge that was only rivalled by her thirst for adventure.

“We’ll look into this, Miss Bartlett,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “I assure you, we’ll do everything we can to bring Mr. Blenham home.”

“Thank you, Inspector Robinson, Miss Fisher,” Miss Bartlett nodded, pursing her lips. She rose, turning toward the door, and Jack rose too.

“Please leave your contact information with my constable,” Jack said as he came around the desk, setting a hand on Phryne’s back to keep her in place. Stopping in the doorway, he barked out, “Collins, see that we know how to find Miss Bartlett.”

“Yes sir,” Collins said with a nod. He came over to usher Miss Bartlett out to stand in front of the desk. 

With a nod, Jack closed his office door and turned back to see Phryne standing beside his desk, pulling on her gloves. He propped his hands on his hips and tilted his head at her.

“Well, Jack? Get your coat—we need to get to that lab.” Phryne smiled at him, and Jack felt his lips tug at the corners as he returned it. 

What was it about this woman? She was troublesome, but he couldn’t seem to resist her allure. It was fortunate that her motives were always good—as a force for evil, she’d be an absolute menace.

“Of course, Miss Fisher,” he murmured as he passed her, moving to tug on his overcoat. “And no,” he went on when she opened her mouth, “you cannot drive. Police vehicle, police driver.”

“Fine, but do you think you could go faster than a milk cart?” 

“I will drive the speed limit, in an effort to keep the streets safe.” Jack settled his hat firmly on his head, relishing the banter. They’d had a version of this conversation so many times, it had become something of a joke. He was certain that at some point, he’d find himself in the passenger seat as she drove his police-issue car, but until that day, he’d continue to deny her. If only because he enjoyed the exasperated looks she’d give him. 

**********

As Jack held the laboratory door open, Phryne stepped through, making sure to brush against him lightly, just to enjoy the tingle that raced across her skin at his proximity. Riding beside him in the police car was both frustrating and exhilarating for her—frustrating because he drove like an elderly woman, but exhilarating because he didn’t smell like one. The scents of his pomade and aftershave permeated the interior of his car, and Phryne rather loved sitting in that small space and breathing him in, regardless of her teasing.

Focusing on the business at hand, Phryne looked around. The laboratory was not large, but its workstations were efficiently laid out. The white walls shone clean in the bright lights, and the two long wooden tables were crowded with bottles and beakers and other scientific apparatus. It reminded her a little of the setup at Saul Abrams’ flat—glass containers hung suspended from metal frames, and rubber tubing threaded between them.

“Can I help you?” The man who spoke was middle-aged, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked neatly away from his forehead, his face drawn up in a scowl. He wore a long white lab coat, and the table where he sat appeared to be ruthlessly organized.

“Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,” Jack said, flashing his warrant card. “This is my associate, Miss Phryne Fisher. We’ve been asked to look into the disappearance of Frederick Blenham.”

“Henry Rook,” the older man said, his scowl fading. He moved from behind his table to approach Jack. “Fred’s missing?”

“You didn’t know?” Phryne asked, surprised.

“Nobody tells us anything,” Rook replied. “I figured he was ill and went home after he talked to Miss Green yesterday. He would have been upset at any rate—he was in the middle of an experiment when she called him away. It’s ruined now.” Rook’s tone conveyed that this was a terrible state of events, and he waved at the other workbench; both Phryne and Jack turned to look, then turned back to each other with a shrug.

“Mr. Rook, you said that Mr. Blenham was called away by someone?” Phryne noted the neutral tone of Jack’s voice, and she watched Rook’s expression. It was possible that his reaction would tell them what he thought of his supervisor.

Rook nodded. “Miss Green. She’s the manager of the lab. Fancies herself a scientist, but her project is so much foolishness.” He shook his head, his lips twisting slightly in what looked like disdain to Phryne. “Fred’s work is much more important.”

“Do you know what she’s working on?” Phryne did her best to keep her voice nonchalant; if Jack could do it, so could she.

“Some sort of scent study,” Rook said, waving a hand. “Nothing so practical as what Fred and I have been doing.”

Jack nodded and jotted something into his notebook. “Did she regularly call Mr. Blenham into her office?”

“Oh yes,” Rook confirmed, crossing his arms. “She liked for him to give her regular reports. Not that she ever did anything with them. Waste of Fred’s time,” he scoffed.

“Mr. Rook, do you think that there was something going on between Miss Green and Mr. Blenham?” Phryne sidled closer, watching the older man out of the corner of her eye as she ran her fingers along the edge of the work table.

Rook frowned. “Romantically, you mean? No, definitely not. Fred was head over heels for the young woman he was seeing.” The older man nodded emphatically. “She’s a lovely girl, Miss Bartlett. Thinks Fred hung the moon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rook,” Jack said quietly, meeting Phryne’s eyes. “Would you mind pointing us toward Miss Green’s office?”

“Of course. It’s just down the hall.” Rook tilted his head in the direction they should go.

“Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Rook,” Phryne said, holding out a hand to shake his. “You’ve been tremendously helpful.” 

Jack held out one of his cards. “If you see or hear anything that might be helpful, please do contact us.” 

“I hope you find him,” Rook said, releasing Phryne’s hand and taking the card from Jack. “Fred’s a good ‘un.”

“We’ll do our best.” Jack nodded and crossed to the doorway, motioning for Phryne to precede him. Closing the door quietly behind them, Jack met Phryne’s eyes. “To Miss Green’s office?”

“I think so,” Phryne responded, tucking her hand in Jack’s elbow as they turned to walk down the hall. The heat of his body seeped into her fingers, and she had to fight the urge to tilt her head to his shoulder. Ridiculous impulse. “What do you think that Mr. Rook meant when he said that Miss Green was working on some sort of scent study?”

**********

At the question, Jack frowned a little, his eyes scanning the nameplates on the office doors they passed. “No idea. What on earth would that have to do with Blenham, though?”

“You know, I read a study in a naturalist magazine a while back,” Phryne mused, her brow furrowing in thought. “A study of moths finding their mates by scent. They postulated something they called pheromones was drawing the males to the females.”

“Well, that’s handy.” Jack kept the comment dry. 

Phryne tilted her head to give him a sidelong glance, her lips twisting lightly in amusement.

“Maybe that’s what Miss Green is studying.” Phryne was silent for a moment, her hand squeezing his arm lightly, her body so close to his as they walked that their hips bumped companionably. “Do you think it’s possible that humans have those scents, Jack? It seems a little far-fetched to me.”

Jack thought for a moment of the smell of her skin up close—ever since he’d kissed her in Cafe Replique, it had only taken a thought to bring to mind her scent and taste, and the sensation of her mouth under his, and he’d been close enough to breathe in more than her perfume. He loved its fragrance, but her natural scent was even more intoxicating.

“I think there might be some merit to it, Miss Fisher,” he admitted quietly. “Here we are.” 

Turning to the door marked with Abigail Green’s name, he knocked briskly, hoping that Phryne would let the idea go, at least for now. When there was no answer, Phryne reached out to turn the knob; the door opened easily. With a smirk, she stepped away from him and pushed it open, moving to peer inside.

“Miss Green?”

Finding the room empty, Phryne straightened and threw a glance over her shoulder at Jack. He shook his head and followed her inside.

The room was dim, lit only by the sunlight filtering through the blinds. It was tidy, with a workbench set along one wall and a filled bookshelf on the opposite side. There was an odd scent in the air, and Phryne lifted a hand to cover her nose.

“Scent study?” She looked at Jack. “I hope she’s not planning on becoming a perfumer. This is frankly awful.”

Jack nodded his agreement, his own nose wrinkling with distaste. “Look here,” he said quietly, stepping in. A pocket watch lay on the floor beneath one of the two chairs that sat in front of the bookcase; its cover was engraved with the initials FB.

“Frederick Blenham?” Phryne breathed.

“That would be my assumption.” Jack straightened, looking around. Two teacups sat on the table between the chairs, each with a smudge in the bottom. Lifting the one next to what he assumed was Blenham’s chair, Jack sniffed at it. “That is not entirely tea.” 

“I saw a telephone in the hall,” Phryne said, her tone brisk. “Shall I call Collins in to gather these up to be tested?”

“I think that’s a good idea. I’ll speak to the director to get Miss Green’s home address.” He met Phryne’s eyes, her serious expression echoing the feeling he had in his gut. “I think we need to assume that Mr. Blenham didn’t leave here under his own power.”

**********

Phryne peered out of the window of the police car as they pulled up in front of Abigail Green’s townhouse. It sat on the end of a row, stretching up two storeys. It was impossible to tell if anyone was at home, but Phryne hoped that this would be where they’d find Miss Green—and, if the fates were kind, an unharmed Frank Blenham.

“Shall we, Miss Fisher?” Jack’s words made her turn to him, the vibration of his voice adding to the leather-and-bay-rum scent of his car. He smiled at her, that tiny quirk of his mouth accompanied by a similarly small lift of his eyebrows—someone who didn’t know him might not even have seen it, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“Absolutely,” she replied, her own smile bright. 

With a nod, he exited the car and came around to open her door; she waited patiently, enjoying the courtesy. She also enjoyed the chance to brush against him as she stepped out, and the opportunity to take his hand for assistance. Jack’s hands were very strong, and if she held on for a moment longer than was necessary, well, who could blame her, really?

His knock on Miss Green’s door was brisk and businesslike; an unmistakable policeman’s knock. After a long moment, Phryne heard the tap of heels approaching, and the door swung silently open, revealing a woman in her mid-thirties.

“Yes?” The woman said. She was pretty, with dark hair that she’d pulled back from her face in a tight bun; her simple frock was covered almost entirely by a white lab coat. 

“Miss Abigail Green?” Jack was using his policeman’s voice as well, low and serious, without emotional inflection. Phryne shivered a little.

“Yes, how can I help you?” Miss Green’s eyebrows were drawn together in confusion. “I’m really rather busy just now, and—”

“Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,” Jack responded, cutting her off mid-speech as he flashed his warrant card. “We need to ask you some questions about one of your employees. A Mr. Frederick Blenham?”

Phryne watched as surprise and anger flashed across Miss Green’s face.

“What about him?” The woman’s voice had a touch of belligerence.

“He’s missing, I’m sorry to say,” Jack responded smoothly. “As I said, we have some questions. May we come in?”

“No, I’m afraid not, inspector,” Miss Green responded, “as _I_ said, I’m really rather busy right now, so if you’ll excuse me—” She began to swing the door closed, and Jack stepped in, blocking it with his foot. “How dare you!” Miss Green’s eyes widened, and she nearly hissed the words.

“I’m afraid I must insist, Miss Green.” His voice was no longer expressionless, Phryne noted, but grim, and he met Miss Green’s offended gasp with a stern look of his own.

“Oh, very well,” she huffed, stepping back. “I don’t see why my experiment should be interrupted. It’s very rude.” Phryne noted that she cast a glance down the hall to the closed door at the far end as she ushered Jack into a small parlor that faced onto the street. Phryne trailed behind, seemingly unnoticed.

“If you feel the need to lodge a complaint, Miss Green, I’ll be happy to provide you with the appropriate channels.” Jack moved into the room and Miss Green followed, taking a stance with her back to the entryway, her arms folded across her chest. 

“Be assured that I will,” she said tightly.

Jack glanced at Phryne, who stood to one side of Miss Green, her hands in her pockets. He caught Phryne’s eye and glanced quickly in the direction away from the front door. Phryne nodded minutely and shifted her weight, preparing to move.

“Now,” Jack went on, withdrawing his notebook and pencil from his pocket. “Please tell me when you saw Mr. Blenham last.” 

“I called him into my office yesterday,” Miss Green began, her irritation evident in her tone. 

Carefully and slowly, Phryne slipped out of Miss Green’s line of vision and through the parlor door, taking care to keep her heels from tapping on the wooden floor. She could hear Miss Green talking, interspersed with Jack’s deep tones, as she pushed open the door at the end of the hallway.

The room appeared to be a kitchen—or it had originally been intended for that purpose. Now, it was outfitted as a laboratory, with a setup similar to the one on the worktable in Miss Green’s office, and a very similar stench in the air. What wasn’t the same as in her office was the man tied to a high-backed wooden chair, a gag around his mouth.

He let out a sound that was probably intended to be “help me”, judging by the size of his eyes, and Phryne lifted a finger to her lips.

“Frederick Blenham, I presume?” She whispered, hurrying over to untie his gag. He was a handsome man, with dark hair and eyes. He didn’t hold a candle to Jack, but she wouldn’t kick him out of bed, either. Her lips lifted in a small smile at her mental turn of phrase.

“Yes,” he gasped when his mouth was no longer blocked. “Please, she’s mad! You have to help me.” 

“That’s exactly why we’re here, Mr. Blenham,” Phryne soothed. “Quiet, please—my partner is distracting Miss Green in the front parlor.” She moved around behind him, lifting her skirt to reach her knife and beginning to saw at the ropes that held him captive.

“She says she’s made a breakthrough in pheromone chemistry,” Blenham whispered, his tone urgent. “That she can force someone to fall in love.” He grimaced as his hands came loose, and he lifted them, rubbing his chafed wrists and wriggling his fingers.

“A love potion?” Phryne let her skepticism shade her voice as she moved to cut through the bonds around his ankles. “That doesn’t sound scientific at all.”

“As I said, she’s mad.” Blenham shook the loosened ropes off his feet. “She’s been pursuing me… romantically, that is, for months now. I told her that I’m in love with my Tilly, but she didn’t want to hear that. She swore that she’d make me love her, one way or another.” His eyes wide, he stood, and Phryne grasped his arms to steady him.

“Your Tilly is the one who alerted the police that you were missing,” she said once he was standing on his own. “She loves you very much.”

His smile at those words was warm. “I know. I’m a lucky man.”

“If you’ll give me just a moment?” Phryne twirled her finger to request that Mr. Blenham turn away; when he obliged, she lifted her skirt to slide her knife back into its accustomed location. “Right. Let’s go give my partner a reason to arrest your host, shall we?” 

“With pleasure,” he responded, his voice grim.

**********

Jack sat in one of Phryne’s surprisingly comfortable armchairs that evening, swirling the whiskey in his glass—another scent he associated with her and with the sense of contentment he felt in this place. Holding the glass under his nose, he contemplated his next move in their ongoing draughts tournament. 

“It seems that Miss Green has a history of instability,” he said, reaching to move his piece. “She’s had inappropriate crushes before, though she never went so far as kidnapping.”

“That’s one way to get a man, I suppose, but it seems unsportsmanlike.” Phryne’s dry rejoinder made Jack snort lightly in amusement. 

“What amazed me is that she didn’t seem to have any real understanding that what she had done was wrong. She was adamant that it was science, and that Mr. Blenham had been a willing participant.” 

It was Phryne’s turn to snort, in derision this time. “Given the way she had him restrained, I think a case can be made for his unwillingness.” 

“Mmm,” Jack agreed, taking a mouthful of whiskey. “And the fact that she’d dosed him with laudanum to get him out of the building and into her car.”

“Is that what it was?” Phryne shook her head, then leaned forward to capture one of Jack’s pieces. “Crown me, Jack.”

“As if you need any more power,” Jack mumbled as he placed a second piece atop the one she’d managed to get across the board.

“What was that?” The laughter was evident in her voice, but Jack met her gaze unflinchingly.

“Nothing, Miss Fisher,” he assured her, doing his best to keep his smile from spreading beyond his eyes.

Phryne gave him a knowing look, but apparently opted not to pursue it. “Miss Green was working on artificial pheromones, then?” 

“Apparently. Or that was the intention.” Jack shook his head. “All she really managed was a rather rank perfume.”

“Well, I’m rather pleased that she failed, I’ll admit.” Phryne leaned back in her seat to take a sip of her own whiskey. 

Jack could feel her eyes on him as he studied the board; they seemed almost to touch him physically, and he enjoyed the sensation. “Not ready to let someone else determine who you love, Miss Fisher?”

Phryne shuddered lightly. “The very idea is terrifying. There is no good reason for that sort of thing—it’s reprehensible to take someone’s choices away.”

Jack nodded, raising his eyes to watch her speak. 

“And to take away their choice about who to love?” Her upper lip curled in disgust. “That is evil in a way that is all the more insidious because it hides under the guise of romance.”

“I agree.” 

Phryne blinked, meeting his eyes.

“I much prefer natural chemistry,” he went on, his voice low. “And the slow build-up of friendship.”

The smile the bloomed on her face was delighted, and she raised her whiskey glass to him.

“To natural chemistry, then, Jack,” she said, her voice a purr.

“And to the friendship that enhances it,” he agreed, raising his own glass.

Holding her eyes, he drank the toast, watching as she did the same. This experiment would take some time to mature yet, but Jack was satisfied that they were both invested in the outcome.


End file.
